


Touch My Snake

by gmartinez12



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, boysex, they do everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmartinez12/pseuds/gmartinez12
Summary: Damian gets a new pet snake and he’s so excited that he wastes no time in telling his bestie about it. Jon isn’t all that thrilled, though, so it’s up to Damian to make sure his friend appreciates just how awesome snakes are.





	Touch My Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Did this for damijon week 2019 for the prompt new pets. This fic was a longtime coming, and it's a fic i owe a good friend for his birthday last year lol.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh and if you got a moment, and maybe some spare change, please consider showing your support by donating a coffee for $3 at my page:
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> **ko-fi.com/gmartineztheficwriter.**
> 
> If you really enjoy my fics (and I really hope you do) and kudos and comments aren't enough to express how hyped you are, ko-fi donations are a great way to show your love, too XD. It helps me pay my credit card bills and really motivates me to keep on providing content. And if I get any extra? I might even commission damijon art we can all enjoy. I'll keep writing stories for free don't worry, I love the super sons so much that all I want is to share the fandom with you guys. But yeah, if you like, ko-fi donations are super cool too :3
> 
> Also, if you wanna chat and say hi, my discord is gmartinez12#9930 :D

**Touch my snake**

By gmartinez12

 

 

 

“Touch it.”

“I don’t know, Damian…it looks pretty big and…”

“I know it is, and I want you to touch it.”

“But…”

“Don’t be a wuss, Jon—touch my snake!”

Jon stared at the huge writhing mass wrapped around his best friend’s neck. It was a shiny tree-bark-brown snake with gold stripes crisscrossing its whole length, making it look like it was wearing dark copper armored plates. Its belly was a pale white, contrasting against its owner’s olive skin. It wriggled slightly as Damian stroked its powerful muscles, and it turned one of its dark yellow eyes on Jon. If snakes could smile, this one would have been leering at him.

The snake’s tongue flicked out of its mouth to taste the air. And probably other things. Could it smell fear? Because its eyes glared at Jon as if to say that it could.

“Are you actually afraid of snakes, Jon?” Damian asked with genuine wonder.

“I never said I was,” Jon muttered while still keeping a full two meters of breathing space between him and the snake, whose head lazily waved in the air like it was drawing an imaginary rainbow with its pointed snout. _A rainbow of blood_ , Jon thought morbidly.

“You sure are acting like you have an acute case of ophidiophobia…”

“What’s its name?” Jon interrupted. “Snakey?”

“What am I, five?” Damian replied dryly. “His name is Pythagoras.”

“Uh…because you like math?” Jon guessed with an embarrassed grin. He scratched the back of his head without taking his eyes off the large reptile.

“No, because he’s a _python,_ ” Damian said, as if this made all the sense in the world. “Also stop dodging the question. Are you afraid of snakes?”

“Well…n _ooooo_ …but…”

“Then touch it,” Damian ordered, though with a happy smile that made him seem like just another ordinary boy who was proud to have something cool to show his friend.

Jon gulped audibly. Some part of him now regretted ever coming over to Damian’s house at all.

When he’d gotten Damian’s call that morning, Jon had been stewing over the prospect of a completely uneventful and boring day. His father was off-world helping the Justice League save a planet or some other grandiose feat of heroism. His mother was out of the country for an extensive investigative journalism project. Both of his parents had trusted that he’d be fine on his own, but he’d already exhausted his video game collection with summer break only a week past, and the few new school friends that he’d made were all off on vacation somewhere.

Of course, he’d thought of hanging out with Damian. In fact, he’d thought of it nearly every moment of every day. But then there was a particularly embarrassing night when he’d visited Wayne Manor uninvited and flown into Damian’s room through the window. There he’d stared slack-jawed at a stark naked Damian, who’d been busy posing in front of a large mirror. After that rather eye-opening incident, he’d agreed with his ridiculously well-toned best friend that he wouldn’t drop by without Damian’s say-so the next time.

And, being the obedient and respectful boy that he was, Jon hadn’t tried dropping by unannounced again. But his intense desire to just be with his partner in crime-fighting and closest confidante was bordering on being clingy, as most young boys are wont to do with their friends. He was just itching to play with Damian again, outside of their patrols during the evenings. Then again, the thought of his promise—and also the confusing knot of emotions and questions that had stewed in his mind after seeing Damian’s bare crotch in person—were preventing him from calling up Damian every day to ask if he could visit.

So when Damian had called him in an uncharacteristically giddy voice to come over because he had something to show him, Jon had just about zoomed out of Metropolis still clad in only his underwear. In his excitement to get away from his boredom and have an excuse to hang out with his apparently-really-handsome-underneath-his-clothes friend, he’d almost forgotten to dress decently.

When he’d entered Damian’s room, the first thing he’d noticed even before he’d pass through the doorway was that he had heard _two_ heartbeats in the room—Damian’s and one… _other_. The other heartbeat sounded exotically unfamiliar, even inhuman. Then came the hiss. Damian would often express his displeasure, irritation, or embarrassment with his signature click of the tongue, but never a _hiss_.

And then Jon had seen it.

The snake’s scales glistened in the afternoon sunlight that drifted through Damian’s window, and it flicked its forked tongue in the air in a mesmerizing staccato. Jon briefly wondered if snakes produced spit, and if that spit invisibly sprayed all over the place whenever the snake would flick out its tongue. Damian explained that it was a Burmese Python, a non-poisonous species. The snake was large, but from the picture that Jon had seen in books, snakes like that could grow twice as big. Damian’s snake wasn’t fully grown, and yet Jon felt like it was already a gigantic evil mass of _nope_ that was just waiting to murder everyone in the house after the lights went out.

Jon stared at the snake, and at Damian’s beaming face. He had that look that Jon himself had when he’d first met Krypto, the Superdog.

 _But this is a snake!_ Jon’s mind wanted to frantically scream at Damian. _Snakes aren’t cute! They’re…they’re….creepy and scary!_ Jon could faintly smell some kind of weird odor from the snake. It didn’t stink, but it smelled vaguely of something oily, and briefly gave Jon the fleeting thought of the snake coming into contact with his skin. The image almost made him stagger with nausea.

And now Damian wanted him to touch it.

 

 

“Well…?” Damian asked. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He didn’t even look angry. Instead, there was something entirely new and unfamiliar in his face. His brow was furrowed slightly and the barest traces of worried creases etched his forehead. His eyes lost their shine and his mouth had drooped to a small, wary frown. Damian was hurt—hurt that his best friend might possibly be genuinely disgusted at something that he’d wanted to share. He was also embarrassed—ashamed that he’d made Jon actually uncomfortable.

Jon saw all of this forming on Damian’s face in the space of a second. He heard Damian’s heartbeat increase slightly as if preparing for a fight-or-flight response—a reaction that he’d come to learn Damian always had whenever he was faced with awkward social encounters.

It was possibly worse this time, because Jon was the one person that Damian counted on to never be awkward with him, the one person he could always be comfortable with without worrying if he was committing another mistake, what with his extremely poor social skills. He wanted Jon there, and the thought of Jon wanting the opposite was, in a manner of speaking, a crushing and demoralizing defeat. And Jon didn’t want that.

“Okay.” Jon gulped and took a step forward. And just like that, Damian’s face lit up again like a child on Christmas Eve. The snake hissed again, as if to signal its triumph. Jon was sorely tempted to hiss back and make its stupid snake head shut up.

Jon approached cautiously until he was right in front of Damian and the python wrapped around his shoulders. He gulped again. Damian was back to his old self, evidenced by the smirk on his face.

“Why are you even scared, Jon?” Damian asked inquisitively. “You’re literally indestructible. Pythagoras can’t bite you. It doesn’t have venom. Even if it tried to constrict you, your invulnerability won’t even make it tickle.”

“I know it can’t hurt me…” Jon began, trying to find his words. “But it’s different. It’s hard to explain. Seeing it makes my stomach churn and gives me gooseflesh. I keep imagining  its fangs trying to bite my eyeballs and it freaks me out so much I feel like I’m gonna pee my pants.”

“Please don’t.” Damian choked back laughter, causing the snake to hiss indignantly as he shook from the effort.  Jon turned his nose up at him. “Look, you don’t have anything to be afraid of—it’s tame. I’ve got it. I just want you to touch it, introduce yourself, and stop being scared.”

“Yeah, well, what if it hurts _you_?” Jon asked with sudden alarm.

“Then I guess Superboy will have to save me from the bad, bad snakey,” Damian said in an imitation of a toddler’s voice.

Jon rolled his eyes. _If only seeing you sad didn’t absolutely crush me, I wouldn’t go through this,_ Jon thought. Then, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on Pythagoras the Python.

A shiver went down Jon’s spine as he felt the eerily smooth scales. It was slick when he stroked it one way, and rough on the other. He was reminded of fish scales, and wondered if reptile scales were basically the same thing. He could feel the snake’s pulse thrumming under his palm, and he was internally debating if it was an indication that the snake was getting ready to pounce on him.

Jon moved his hand along the snake’s body once more, and another for good measure.  The contact felt like it had lasted hours. He jumped back jerkily and let out a big breath.

“There!” Jon declared in relief. “I touched it!”

Damian’s face was straining to hold back a fit of laughter. “Yes, you did. For five whole seconds. With your eyes closed.”

“I…oh…I didn’t realize…” Jon mumbled. He hadn’t really noticed that he’d had his eyes closed.

“You really have it bad, buddy,” Damian sighed teasingly. He stroked Pythagoras a few times before lowering it into a glass tank on the floor. “Jon, you’re afraid of snakes.”

“I’m pretty sure most people don’t have to touch snakes on a daily basis,” Jon retorted evasively. He turned away from Damian in a huff.

“Fraidy cat…” Damian whispered in Jon’s ear.

Jon flinched. He could’ve sworn Damian was still over by the snake’s case when he’d turned.

“Hah!” Damian chuckled. “All the powers of a god, but with all the fears of a ten-year-old.”

“I’m _twelve_!” Jon corrected indignantly.

“And that’s different how?” Damian teased.

“Fine, snakes creep me out. So what?”

“ _So what_?” Damian echoed in disbelief. “Jon, you’re a superhero! If something like an everyday snake creeps you out, how do you hope to fight villains that are way, way worse?”

“Do you know any villains that look like snakes?” Jon asked, suddenly concerned.

“Well, no. But let’s put it this way…” Damian mused. “My dad’s rogues have a guy that’s basically a walking crocodile.” He waved in the air as if he was pointing to an imaginary image of Killer Croc.

“Wonder Woman has rogues that are basically every bad guy in Greek myth including gorgons, whose hair are made of snakes…” Damian continued as he wriggled his fingers on top of his head accordingly.

“And your dad…well, his rogues are basically any evil alien from outer space that could include something that looks like a snake!”

“Well, my dad’s rogues aren’t _all_ aliens…” Jon suggested.

Damian sighed. “ _Fine_. Aliens and occasionally bald businessmen. My point is that at any time in our careers as heroes, fighting something that looks like a snake isn’t so farfetched. And you being afraid of it is a huge problem.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Jon replied mournfully.

“Luckily for you, I have an idea to help you get rid of your fear,” Damian announced, a smug look etched onto his fine features.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“And what’s that, exactly?”

“Easy,” Damian said nonchalantly. “I’ll just have to scare you and creep you out until you get used to it.”

 

 

**

 

 

Let it never be said that Jon was close-minded. Because Damian was his best friend, and because he knew that he really couldn’t refuse Damian—what with his intense admiration for the boy, among other feelings—Jon always went with whatever crazy plan or maneuver Damian had cooked up. Even when Jon sometimes complained, he always ended up doing just as Damian told him to do.

He thought the ropes were a bit much, though. The blindfold, too. And he still didn’t get why he had to be naked save for his boxers.

“So, run this by me again,” Jon began, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his tone. “I’m tied up blindfolded with my clothes off in your bed because…?”

“Because!” Damian answered curtly. “This is going to train you to grow out of your fear of snakes!” He sounded like he genuinely believed every word he was saying. His confidence was almost enough to reassure Jon. _Almost_.

“I think I need a little bit more detail,” Jon said. His hands were tied to the bedposts, and he tried tugging at them to no avail. He’d promised not to use his super strength, and he was starting to regret it.

“Fear is basically anxiety over what you don’t know and what you don’t control,” Damian said, his voice sounding eerily deep. He was definitely enjoying himself. “That’s why you’re blindfolded and tied up, to simulate your state of helplessness and ignorance.”

“Rude,” Jon cut in, but Damian ignored him.

“The exercise will involve me simulating snake-like stimuli on your body, and your task is to endure it and remember that it’s just me, and not a snake.”

“So…you’re going to pretend that you’re a snake, poke me, and hope I stop being scared,” Jon summarized.

“You make sound it sound overly simplistic when you say it that way,” Damian said, and Jon heard the frown in his voice.

“Because it’s the truth,” Jon muttered. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Damian didn’t reply. Instead, Jon heard him shuffle off the bed and do…something. It was a disconcerting snake hiss that clued Jon in on Damian’s plan.

“Damian, you’re not gonna put the actual snake on me, are you?” Jon squeaked. “’Cuz, I swear if you…”

“Relax, J,” Damian cooed. “I just put his case next to your head so you can hear him slithering and hissing close to you for maximum realism.”

“I hate you,” Jon said flatly.

“You’ll thank me for this,” Damian replied.

“I do— _yeaaahhcch_!” Jon yelped as he felt something slide across his bare ribs. His reaction was made worse by the fact that he could hear the python hissing so clearly to his left. “Damian, what the heck was that?”

“My fingers, but covered with leather gloves,” Damian said. “Seriously, Jon—try and get a grip. And no cheating with your super vision or strength, or you’ll defeat the whole purpose of this exercise.”

Jon grumbled. He lay still once more but had to stifle another squeal. He knew Damian was doing _something_ , but not what exactly it was. All he knew was that something was slithering along the flat of his tummy and up his sides. Suddenly the slithering was replaced by skittering that reached his armpits, and that was what broke Jon’s concentration.

“ _Gahahahah_! Damian, no! I’m ticklish there!”

“Hmm…” Damian hummed as he relented. “You’re not getting scared, which is good, I suppose. But you’re not supposed to laugh, either.”

“Maybe…stop tickling me?” Jon wheezed.

Damian poked Jon’s sides again.

“ _Hahahaha_! D…!” Jon groaned.

Damian suddenly flicked the inside of Jon’s thighs. It made a loud snap against his skin.

“ _Yoowch_! Damian, you jerk! Be careful—you might hit something important!”

“Were you scared?” Damian asked.

“ _No_!” Jon retorted.

Damian shrugged indifferently. “Then I guess this works.”

Jon waited with bated breath. For the next several minutes, he anxiously awaited the next thing that Damian would do to him. Damian was right in that not seeing or knowing exactly what was being done to him was freaking him out, but at the same time, knowing that no true harm would really come to him gradually tempered his fear.

Damian continued to use his hands in creative ways. Sometimes he would tickle Jon intentionally, sometimes not. Sometimes he’d pause and lull Jon into a false sense of security before pinching the younger boy mercilessly. Other times he’d rub his palm around Jon’s skin in a wavy pattern while hissing, his best approximation of a snake, making sure to strike at the most unexpected places on Jon’s body. He knew his plan was working because Jon had eventually squirmed less and laughed more. The fear was slowly ebbing away.

But then a new problem reared its head. Damian was…sweating. He was definitely not perspiring due to fatigue—tickling a tied-up boy isn’t exactly a tiring activity. He was sweating because he felt hot. He felt hot because…because this exercise he’d thought of to rid Jon of his fear had progressed into its logical conclusion. It was now a game that they were both playing, one that was definitely not the kind they usually played. Damian also noted that Jon’s skin was equally…moist.

There was a palpable shift in the tone of the moment, and both boys felt it reverberate in their bones. Jon became a lot quieter and yet he started wanting more of Damian’s touch. Every time he felt Damian’s hands come into contact with his skin, he gasped and leaned into it. Every wait for the next touch was marked by the quickening pace of his breathing.

Damian was being similarly affected. More and more, he found himself touching Jon in the ways he knew Jon liked, based on his gasps and moans. His whole palm rubbing the flat of Jon’s belly. His fingers lightly caressing Jon’s neck. His hand running over Jon’s nipples…his tongue leaving a slick, wet trail that led down to Jon’s belly button…

That’s where the boys were now—Damian had just licked Jon’s chest because it felt like the most natural thing to do to him. If Jon’s breathlessness was any sign, he’d liked it very much.

All pretenses about their play melted away in that moment. Jon felt his face heat up andhe turned his head away from Damian—not that it did anything because he was blindfolded. He knew Damian could see, and in a way, he wanted Damian to see.

Jon’s erection poked out of his nylon boxers.

Damian gulped. A part of him registered that he might have gone too far. He really had just wanted to help Jon overcome his fear and maybe tease him along the way, but this…he simply wasn’t prepared to deal with the fact that he’d just aroused his best friend. More importantly, he hadn’t expected that Jon’s arousal would stir his own boyish urges as well.

Jon whimpered. It was the sound that he’d been making when he anticipated another touch—a sensual touch, if his hard-on was any measure. His boyhood twitched slightly and Damian knew it was intentional. It was…an invitation.

Damian placed a single finger on Jon’s right nipple. He traced circles around the little pink nub, ignoring how Jon’s breath hitched every other second. Next, he dragged the tip of his finger all the way down to the waistband of Jon’s underwear. His fingers lingered there for a few seconds—still no objection from the younger boy. He used both hands this time, lightly, almost hesitantly, to slip off the garment, and this time Jon reacted by raising his hips to make it easier. Both of them knew there was no going back after that, and neither of them bothered to hide their excitement.

Jon, still deprived of his sight because of the blindfold, felt his other senses go into overdrive, almost breaking his promise to keep the super out of his hearing and vision. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs. His breath slowed as he endured the waiting, inhaling deeply in a way that reminded him of how he’d swim on the beach with a bright red snorkel during summer vacation. Everything echoed in his head. Finally, he felt the skin of his crotch exposed to the air, his dick at full mast.

To Jon’s dismay, Damian did nothing…at first. Then he heard the rustling of clothes, and the sound of them being thrown to the side of the bed. Damian had just gotten naked, he guessed. He sensed the snake cage being removed from beside him and replaced on top of the desk. He heard bedsprings creak slightly as Damian climbed onto the bed, seemingly on all fours. Jon held his breath when he felt the skin of Damian’s bare legs touch his own—Damian was between his legs.

Jon was often called the boy of steel. But right then the only thing about him that was ‘hard as steel’ was his dick.

Damian’s hands then began roaming all around Jon’s naked groin, tantalizingly touching everything _but_ his dick. Damian seemed to be inspecting the most hidden of Jon’s nooks and crannies—lightly rubbing the base to feel for the first signs of pubes, cupping his balls, and tracing his taint.

It was almost unbearable to the boy and he was about to protest when Damian stopped him cold…or rather, warm. And wet. Jon stopped breathing and his brain stopped working when he felt his dick being utterly engulfed by Damian’s mouth.

“Ngghh…!” Jon moaned, his voice hoarse and deeper than its usual childish lilt. His dick felt impossibly hot, and Damian seemed to know all the right things to do—all the buttons to push—to pleasure his dick enough to rob him of all rational thought.

Damian didn’t give Jon room to breathe as he fully committed himself to worshiping the boy’s dick in his mouth. His head bobbed in and out with a constant rhythm, his lips pursed and practiced in applying the most satisfying amount of suction. His tongue was constantly tasting the sensitive tip, and lavishing the rest of the four inches with a flurry of licks. It all came naturally to Damian, as if he was acting on some hidden instinct that dictated him to drive Jon mad with more pleasure than his boyish frame could handle. He sucked, he kissed, and he rolled his tongue around the shaft like he was playing with a tootsie roll in his mouth. And then he broke off to suck on Jon’s balls, still tight in their little sack.

Damian came back up and wolfed down Jon’s boyhood once more, and he felt it twitch a few times in his mouth. Jon seemed to be at the apex of his ecstasy. The younger boy’s right hand had strained against the rope binding it to the bedpost so much that a bit of his super-strength leaked out and easily severed the knot with an involuntary tug that slightly cracked the wooden bedpost.

The sound jarred Damian back to his senses, since he too was a bit lost in his singular drive to suck dick. He got off the bed and assessed his young friend. Jon was sweating and panting hard, his mouth open as though desperate for air. The boy’s dick was still twitching, no doubt only a few more sucks short of an explosive cum. Jon seemed too winded to protest that the pleasure had stopped, but he did turn his blindfolded face to where Damian stood and whimpered feebly.

Damian looked down to his own turgid member. At 15, he’d grown…a bit. Maybe a little bit longer Jon’s four inches if he squinted. It was thicker now, and had a small bush of haphazard hair at the base. He was so focused on Jon that he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge his own state of arousal, and a single bead of pre-cum formed at his tip to remind him that he was indeed still a boy with his own boyish urges.

He glanced at Jon’s hand, torn free from the rope that had bound it. Jon was just about to reach over and touch his swollen boydick in a bid to continue the stimulation, but Damian intercepted it and held Jon’s hand gently in his own. Slowly, he guided the boy’s palm until it rested on his own hardness. Jon groped it a few times until he got the idea, and started rubbing the flat of his palm on the angry red head, already lubricated with pre.

Damian sighed in contentment as Jon continued to paw at his teen cock. Jon had switched from just feeling and rubbing it to actively stroking it—tugging at it even—like he wanted it for himself. Damian almost laughed when he’d thought about how this had all started. He’d simply wanted Jon to ‘touch his snake’. In a way, Jon was doing exactly that, and then some.

Jon’s fingers were firm, purposeful, intent on inflicting as much pleasure as they could. Jon seemed very eager to repay Damian the favor, and it seemed like Jon was tugging on his dick closer and closer…

Jon wanted to suck him off. _Oh, gods,_ Damian realized with a start— _Jon wanted to suck him off!_

The thought of Jon’s lips on his cock made Damian weak in the knees. He wanted it, and badly. But he had other plans right then. Better plans, even. He pulled away from Jon’s touch, causing the boy let out a small groan of disappointment.

Damian took Jon’s hand and sucked the middle finger—he felt Jon’s shiver run through his hand. He leaned in close to Jon’s ear and whispered, “Don’t touch yourself.”

Jon mewled, but he obeyed. He let his hand drop to the bed with all of his self-control as he heard Damian going away and rummaging around in his vanity at the room’s southern end. The wait was agonizing for Jon. His dick was still hot and needy, pointing to the sky and desperate for more attention. It was all he could do to stop himself from grinding against Damian’s bedsheets. However, the thought of rubbing his dick on the sheets that Damian would later sleep in was an oddly agreeable thing, the more he thought about it.

He heard the bed creak as Damian got back into place between his legs again. Jon moaned as he felt his dick enveloped by warm bliss, as Damian began sucking on it once more. At the same time, he felt something quite cold being spread around his bottom by a probing finger, specifically in and around his hole. Every time he’d wanted to verbally ask Damian what was going on, his breathing stopped because of Damian had just sucked him hard, or licked his tip one too many times. He knew he was close, but Damian knew just when to stop before he reached that peak and it was _agonizing_. All that while, Damian was busily spreading the wet cool substance on his puckered entrance, and he barely noticed that Damian‘s finger was already fully inside him until it was already there.

The sensation of having a finger up his bum was so foreign and novel to Jon that he didn’t know what to say or if he should say anything at all. Once Damian began pistoning his finger in and out, however, Jon felt the need rising in him again, fiercely this time, and his dick jumped in want of it. As impossible as it seemed, Damian had switched on something inside of him that made his dick even harder than before.

“Don’t worry—we’ll do that next time. Right now, it’s _my_ turn.” Damian said softly, almost tenderly, as he raised his face from Jon’s crotch with a parting kiss on the boy’s quivering tip.

Jon protested with a groan, but just as he did, he felt that same cold and slick substance being spread around his dick. It was smooth and oily, and smelled a lot like…like _Damian_. Or rather, something that he’d often smelled on Damian whenever they’d spend the night together on sleepovers.

“What is that…?” Jon asked groggily.

 Damian answered impatiently, as though he couldn’t wait to finish.

“Moisturizing lotion. First thing I could find in my room. I didn’t really expect us to—but anyway, it’ll do.” Damian was the one panting now.

Jon could feel the weight shift on the bed. And the…it happened. He knew that Damian was lowering himself onto his dick. He felt his wet and slick head touch the rim of Damian’s equally lubed hole. Damian slid down on Jon’s rock-hard dick before the younger boy could even let out a sigh, and all at once he was lost again in a sea of his own pleasure.

Jon’s dick was small enough that Damian didn’t need to strain hard to get it all in with a single try. It was a perfect fit—two pieces of a puzzle that were meant to be together. Damian knew that Jon must be flipping out of his mind right now, with the heat and the friction driving the younger boy crazy with lust. But he was equally reveling in the moment, in that feeling of fullness—of fulfillment that made him, simply put, quite happy. He needed Jon inside him, and now that Jon was, Damian felt complete.

Jon moaned a long and high-pitched syllable as Damian began to move himself up and down. His dick was being squeezed on all sides by unfathomable warmth, comfort, and pressure that he had never known existed. And most of all, this was _Damian_. He was inside _Damian_ , and finally all the confused emotions that he’d had about his best friend made sense.

Damian pulled up and it felt amazing. He slid back down, and it felt fantastic. He couldn’t help his breathing now—he was mumbling and panting and grunting with abandon as he went up and down, savoring the sensation of Jon’s penis sliding in and out of his hole. He gripped Jon’s legs, dictating the pace. He wanted more, and he wanted Jon to cum his brains out, or his name wasn’t Damian Wayne.

“Damian…I…!” Jon moaned weakly, lacking the breath to say more.

Damian grinned mischievously. Jon was utterly under his spell. He could force Jon to gasp by clenching his muscles, or make Jon moan by speeding up. Jon was his. Jon was _his_.

One particularly hard down-thrust seemed to knock the wind out of Jon. The boy gasped, and in the heat of the moment and an uncontrolled burst of power, his other hand tore free of the rope. Both his hands gripped Damian’s toned legs for dear life, begging him to stay and keep him inside, willing the sensation to persist.

Damian leaned over and removed the blindfold. Jon blinked up at him, his eyes watery as if he was about to cry. And yet the boy had a great big smile, both mystified and infinitely grateful. Damian kissed him. Jon didn’t know what to do other than return the favor with a clumsy boy’s kiss.

Time was a blurry concept to the boys. Each moment was either forever or simply a second among a hundred thousand others. They were kissing, and then frantically embracing, and then wildly writhing on top of each other on the bed. Damian was leading Jon and the younger boy followed dutifully like a starry-eyed pup. Before he fully grasped what Damian had intended, he was on his knees, and Damian’s hole was in front of him. Jon didn’t really need any instruction for this part. He simply grabbed Damian’s hips and thrust himself back into that wonderfully warm place.

Fucking Damian Wayne was wonderful.

“ _Harder_ , Jon!” Damian urged. He gripped the sheets tightly, longing for release.

“I’ll try…!” Jon puffed earnestly. He pushed in harder, he thrust out faster. He used all of the effort that he could muster short of his super-powers to pound Damian’s hole and get more of that insanely good feeling. In and out. Pull and thrust. Deeper and deeper. _Deeper and deeper._

Jon wouldn’t have known how he was doing it, but Damian felt it anyway—the way that the younger boy’s dick had been rubbing against that one special spot in him. Damian was hard and leaking more pre than he’d ever had before. “ _Faster_!” he demanded.

Jon was only too happy to please. He was only in the middle of his fifth thrust when Damian tensed up and exploded all over his sheets. He shot seven jets of his cum, not caring that it flew everywhere from his thighs, to his sheets and even up onto his chin. Yet Jon didn’t stop. The whole time Damian was cumming, Jon hadn’t stopped fucking, and he only went faster and stronger as his forceful thrusts sent Damian’s seed flying. Damian felt Jon’s grip on his waist tighten even more. Jon was at his limit.

“ _Gaaaah_!” Jon gasped as his dick twitched uncontrollably inside Damian.

Damian felt it throb seven times, along with the gentle heat of Jon’s cum splattering against his insides. It wasn’t much, but then again, it was a wonder that at his age, Jon had managed to spurt out even that much.

Damian collapsed on the bed, not caring that his cum-stained sheets were sticky on his chest. Jon collapsed on top of him, his dick slowly softening and leaving a wet trail out of Damian’s butt.

Jon hugged Damian from behind, and despite his surprise, Damian allowed it. They lay there for a while, just enjoying the sensation of each other’s skin. Slowly their breathing returned to normal. But both of them knew that what was normal for them was never going to be the same after today.

 

 

**

“Jonathan?”

“Hi, Mister Wayne!”

Bruce followed Jon with his eyes as the boy excitedly ran down the corridor to Damian’s room. The door opened and Damian’s head popped out. He saw Bruce and frowned.

“Yes, Father?”

“Wasn’t Jon here just yesterday?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, he was, and now he’s here again,” Damian replied dryly. “Is there a problem with that?”

Bruce scratched his chin. “No, but I just don’t want Clark to accuse me of kidnapping and adopting his son by force. He says that like it’s something that I do all the time.”

“I don’t see why he’d think that,” Damian replied with a smirk.

“Right? At least you agree that it’s…” Bruce began, but Damian cut him off.

“That was sarcasm, Father.”

“Oh.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Damian said as he dragged Jon by the hand inside his room, “We’re going to play with my snake.” With that, he shut the door.

Inside, Jon was over by Pythagoras the Python’s cage and cooing at it.

“Hey, Pythagoras, how ya doin’?” Jon cooed as he made faces at Pythagoras. The snake ignored him.

“You don’t seem to fear him anymore,” Damian observed.

“He’s not so bad. He’s kinda cool, even,” Jon replied with a shrug.

Damian sidled up to him with a triumphant look. “I _told_ you my idea would work.”

“Whatever…” Jon replied with a sheepish grin. He and Damian were shoulder-to-shoulder now, and their fingers were touching—just barely.

After a short pause, he said, “Hey, Damian…can I touch your snake?”

Damian knew Jon didn’t mean Pythagoras. He smiled, and then laced his fingers together with Jon’s. Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Anytime you want, J.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand and slowly reached inside the teen’s shorts. Jon couldn’t help but giggle as he held his prize.

Damian was already hard.

 

 

 


End file.
